To Prove the Impossible
by Chibi Animagus
Summary: The Golden Trio are on a quest to find the remaining Horcruxes. What Harry and Ron don't know, in this case, can only help them. Two great minds are one step ahead of them. [PostHBP, HGSS]
1. Intro

** A/N: MAJOR HBP SPOILERS. Read at your own risk. **

This fic will be HG/SS eventually. Don't like it? Don't read it. This starts on September 1, what would have been the Golden Trio's seventh year at Hogwarts, after the disturbing events of HBP. Kind of a challenge for me to find a way to get the two together and explain everything after what happened. Very fun. I'm still convinced Snape's a good guy.

This starts out short and slow, but will pick up in the next chapter, I promise. I've discontinued the other fic, Reason Enough, because I can't concentrate on that with the looming problem of HBP. Sorry to those that liked it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

* * *

**To Prove The Impossible **

by Chibi Animagus 

Nothing was ever certain.

That was one thing Hermione Granger had not learned from a book. The past few years had burned it into her able mind like a white-hot poker.

And sometimes, it hurt just as much.

Yet there was something surreal about this morning in particular, from the two boys ambling along beside her, to the dirt path ahead of her. Yes, there was something to be said about travelling to Godric's Hollow on September the first.

Any other year, they would find themselves seated at the long Gryffindor table, helping themselves to treacle pudding, chatting amiably with Nearly Headless Nick and Neville Longbottom, avoiding eye contact with a certain blonde Slytherin, and…

… Snape, she thought bitterly.

But this year, things were different. No one sat in the Great Hall today. No first years would don the infamous Sorting Hat. No flurry of owls would deliver the mail. And although there were some things Hermione was happy to miss, such as Lavender and Parvati whispering behind their hands and shooting her dark looks, four months ago she would not have expected to be so glad that she was not present to see Severus Snape.

Of course, he would not be there anyway; he was being hunted so fiercely by the Ministry that she doubted Snape even had time to sleep nowadays. Yet Hermione had never been opposed to the dark, quiet figure that had surveyed the Great Hall each morning with disdain and scorn. True, he had always treated her harshly, but she had long since forgiven him. There was something about the way he was always swooping about, sneering at their incompetence, putting on such a show to intimidate them all, that made Hermione feel as if she understood something very personal about him, and as she had respected Professor Lupin's secret, she would respect Professor Snape's.

That was not to say that she felt so kindly to him now. What he had done was shocking, inexcusable, and… Hermione had to admit, incredibly disturbing. She knew she had no right, but she couldn't help feeling betrayed, and rather embarrassed, that she had trusted the greasy git for so long, had defended him to her best friends… and now…

Hermione grinned harshly, gaining some sick, twisted pleasure from using the name she had refused to call him all these years. Greasy git. Overgrown bat. Filthy Slytherin. Hermione was only slightly surprised at herself. The man she had trusted as a teacher and a protector (she flushed at that word) had murdered the one man who had trusted him as she had, the one man who had given him a second chance, the greatest wizard of all time. Anyone who did such a thing deserved her unkind words.

A sudden anger flared up inside her, and Hermione clenched her fists, the image of Severus Snape quite clear in her mind. How dare he destroy her hope… that people truly could change. The man was nothing but a filthy, cowardly traitor. Snape had never changed.

No, Hermione thought with grim conviction, if she saw Severus Snape any number of years from now, she would be sure to make him wish he had never been born.


	2. The One Where She Meets the Prince

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A/N: MAJOR HBP SPOILERS. Read at your own risk.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

hr

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To Prove The Impossible

by Chibi Animagus

"So…"

The casual voice of the redheaded boy cut through the heavy silence that had fallen upon the Golden Trio as they walked that morning.

"So the wedding was nice." The boy continued to talk, shooting offhanded looks at the bespectacled boy shuffling along beside him, as if his constant chatter would save the boy some grief.

"Yeah, it was…" The first words the Chosen One had spoken all morning. He, like his two companions, knew full well where they would be on this day if not for the shocking events several months prior.

"Ronald, you've said that twice already," Hermione chided him distractedly.

"Oh… right…"

Conversation suffered as the day wore on, and the Golden Trio were soon lost in their thoughts. Three hours, fifteen chocolate frogs, and two stubbed toes later, Hermione decided that lunch was in order, and they sat down a short distance from the road, obscured by a copse of trees.

"You know, Harry, perhaps it would be better if we used some more secrecy," she said over a sandwich.

"_Mfuik chmwort?_" Ron asked thickly, a piece of lettuce dangling from his lip.

"Well, I thought that Harry should wear his Invisibility Cloak, and that we shouldn't travel on the road, but keep an eye on it so we can--"

"Merlin's sakes, 'Mione, it's not as though they've got Death Eaters on our tail!" Ron said, glowering. Harry's expression was grim.

"Ron…" he said, his voice low, "You don't know that. Hermione's right; I told you this would be dangerous. Voldemort has probably sent out spies by now, to try to follow us. Me, that is. We have no way of knowing how much he's aware of. Snape fed Voldemort the information about my parents, and I have a feeling he might know where I'm going."

The remainder of lunch was silent, and before long they were off again, Ron putting as much distance between himself and the road as possible.

* * *

In any other circumstances, Severus Snape would have found the irony of the situation quite entertaining, especially for a man thought to have no sense of humor. Given the events of the previous months, however, he only acknowledged the strangeness of his assignment with a grim twist of his lips that he had meant to be a smile, devoid of any kind of amusement.

Snape had watched the three children from a distance for the past week or so, listened to their strained conversations with only slight curiosity, waiting for the opportune moment to put his plan into action. He had never had any doubt in his mind that it would have to be Miss Granger; she was the only one of the Golden Trio with a working mind. Potter's idiocy had been clear to him the last time he'd had the pleasure of speaking with him (which had taken place with the quaint backdrop of a blazing hut and hooded maniacs running amok), and only two minutes of observing the redheaded boy had told Snape that Ron Weasley had still not managed to produce a single intelligent thought in his life.

So yes, it would have to be to her, the insufferable know-it-all, that Severus Snape would have to attempt the impossible: to explain himself. Gods knew the girl had brains, so she should have been able to pick up the truth herself. Unless Potter had neglected to provide the details of his arch-nemesis's fall from grace, as the three had strayed far from the subject while Snape had been observing them. He had to admit he was surprised. The loss of Albus Dumbledore must have hit Potter especially hard; in any other case, Snape had little doubt that Potter would have reveled in recalling every last detail about his treachery. Merlin forbid that the boy look at the facts.

Snape couldn't help but sneer at the Granger girl's suggestion that they take more caution. _Very wise, Miss Granger,_ he said silkily inside his head, _What would the Chosen One and his pet weasel do without you? More caution from you is definitely in order…_

__

… After all, Voldemort may have sent out spies.

* * *

It hadn't been the first time that he had watched her from a closer distance. Every night he had crept closer to the three, willing the idiot boys to drop off to sleep before her, so he could catch her alone, and every night she had fallen into a fitful, restless sleep within moments. He could have roused her, of course. But every night something stopped him. He told himself that he was afraid of waking the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Cause-Him-Pain and the Freckled Freak Show. After all, if they knew that the second-most wanted man in Britain (the first being a certain Tom Marvolo Riddle) was tailing them, they would not take to it well. They had always hated him, anyway… She was simply the only one who would believe him.

That was the cause of his hesitation to wake the chit. Definitely not the fact that he thought the girl looked peaky as of late. Because she didn't. The girl was living and breathing, and that was all that mattered.

With this in mind, he strode purposefully into the grove that enclosed the three- or two and a half, as the Potter boy's invisibility cloak had slipped off his shoulders- and pulled out his wand from underneath his own invisibility cloak. Snape put a hasty freezing charm on the girl, thought a moment, and cast an extra silencing spell just in case; the chit never shut up.

As quietly as he could, Snape scooped up the Granger girl in his arms, a little more roughly than he'd intended, and set out for a clearing he had passed not long ago.

* * *

The first thing Hermione expected to see when she woke up was the dark canopy of leaves she had fallen asleep under. The last thing she had expected to see was the dark figure that loomed above her, his sallow face suddenly more frightening to her than it had ever been, the curl in his lip suddenly bringing forth such an onslaught of emotions that Hermione was ready to jump to her feet and close her hands around his filthy, traitorous neck. Fortunately for the both of them, she could do no such thing.

Hermione lay prone and helpless in the cool night grass, imprisoned by some elementary spell, while a cold-hearted murderer sneered at her from above. Hermione was suddenly aware of exactly what this meant: she was going to die.

Over the past six years, Hermione had been faced with many situations in which she had wondered if she would die. Adventures, most of them, all involving Harry, and always she had been prepared. Now, groggy and disoriented from sleep, Hermione thought briefly that she was lucky for it to have ended this way. Snape was a Death Eater, but unless he planned to torture her (which was a possibility), her death would be quick and painless.

As sleep faded from her mind in a matter of moments, however, Hermione started to realize exactly what death would entail. To never see Ron or Harry again… To never read a book… or curl up on her window seat at home in the sunshine… To never scold Crookshanks again… To never tell the people she loved just how much they meant to her…

"Miss Granger."

The words were soft, but sharp, and the sneer across his features was enough to tell Hermione that he was mocking her inside his head in every way possible. She would have spat out some nasty (and deserved) words back at the man, but her mouth refused to budge. _Bloody coward,_ she screamed inside her head.

"It appears," Snape said in the same dangerously soft voice she had come to fear, "that you have landed yourself in a… predicament. Yes, I have been following you, despite your brilliant attempts at stealth." He raised an eyebrow.

__

Bloody coward! Damn that mocking sneer of his! I told them we shouldn't have traveled so close together!

"As you may have noticed, you are under a few charms and are unable to move and speak." He paused, as if to savor this fact. "A definite improvement."

__

What's wrong, you greasy git? Afraid of a student? Or former student, should I say, thanks to you.

"There are some things I feel the need to explain to you, Miss Granger, about the death of Albus Dumbledore."

__

DEATH? More like cold-blooded murder! Hermione wondered numbly why he was doing this. He had her there, helpless. Why didn't he just snuff her out already?

"I take it your precious Chosen One failed to enlighten you as to the details of the… situation… You are an incredibly capable young witch, Miss Granger, and I fear that you are the only one of your… Golden Trio…" Snape's lip curled with distaste, "… who will have the presence of mind to believe the facts."

Snape's gaze changed from mocking to suddenly intense, as if this were of utmost importance.

"Miss Granger, it is crucial that you listen to me. That you understand… I can help you, and Mr. Potter, now that Albus is gone, in ways I could not before." He leaned in closer, his dark eyes drilling into her own. "My deed has placed me at second in command to the Dark Lord. He trusts me as he does no other. I do not deny that I am guilty of murder- murder of one of the greatest wizards… and greatest men… of all time. But you must understand why. Under other circumstances, I would find explaining myself completely unnecessary as a professor to a student… but if I am to help you, it will require a great deal of trust, and as it were, you have every right not to trust me."

Snape's mouth turned up at the corner, a shadow of his usual smirk. "I only request that you not interrupt me."

__

Very droll, Professor, very droll. Hermione would have been shaking her head, mouth agape, if she had not been frozen in place. _What an attentive audience I am, _she thought grimly.

"The Dark Lord gave Draco Malfoy orders to kill Albus Dumbledore, in revenge upon his father, Lucius, for his… failure in the Department of Mysteries, last year. He knew that the boy would be unable to commit such a deed, and assumed that he would die trying. Draco's mother assumed this as well, and came to me in tears, with none other than her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape spat out her name, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. Hermione suddenly felt very cold. This was the man who murdered Professor Dumbledore, and here she was, listening and waiting for some crazy cooked-up story to restore her trust in him. It was beginning to sound as though Snape was not about to murder her after all… as though he really did have a legitimate explanation for his actions… as though he really did want to help them. Hermione wanted to believe that he was still on their side, she really did. She wanted to trust Professor Snape again.

And she hated herself for it.

"Bellatrix and I have never seen… eye to eye," Snape continued with a dry tone, "and she has never really trusted me. So when Narcissa begged me to protect her son, she scoffed and tried to convince Narcissa that I was unfaithful to the Dark Lord. That I was a… double agent, of sorts."

It was clear on Snape's features that he prided himself with being able to keep so many stories going. _If only I knew which ones to believe…_

"To prove my dedication to the Dark Lord, I was forced to take the Unbreakable Vow. Draco's mother made me vow that if it appeared that Draco should fail, that I would carry out the deed that had been assigned to him... You wouldn't know what the Unbreakable Vow is, would you, Miss Granger?"

Snape sneered maliciously, obviously taking great pleasure in her inability to wave her hand about and enlighten him with her all-knowing wisdom. Hermione chanted furiously in her head, '_You can't break it or you die. You evil loathsome git. You can't break it or you die. You evil loathsome git.'_ Not the exact words of _Magical Vows and Binding Spells_, but Snape couldn't hear her anyway.

"No? Why, Miss Granger, I'm surprised at you." His eyes glittered, and he began to pace back and forth, like a jaguar stalking its prey. _Git._ "If you were to break an Unbreakable Vow, you would die. So I found myself in a rather… unpleasant… situation. Now, whether you choose to believe it or not, I did not want to kill Albus Dumbledore. I told him what I had done, and he did not seem bothered by it in the least. It was… unsettling… how easily he brushed it aside. Needless to say, I resigned from my position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher several times over the course of the year, but Albus would hear none of it. He made me promise, that should the situation arise, that I carry out my… task."

Hermione's mind was screaming in protest. Snape could not possibly be telling the truth. This was some wild story of his… a trick, perhaps… But in the back of her mind, Hermione knew that it sounded exactly like something the late Headmaster would do. Sacrifice himself for the good of the wizarding world. And although she was wary of believing him, Hermione couldn't help wanting to trust him. His story was making much too much sense to cast it aside.

"So when Draco cast the Dark Mark over the tower… I knew that I would have to be the one to do it. Albus was adamant that the boy not become a senseless murderer like his father. When I arrived… I saw that the Headmaster was dying. One look at him told me that he had ingested a rare and fatal poison that would kill him slowly, eating him from the inside out."

Snape paused, surprisingly showing no delight at someone being eaten alive.

"Draco was there, along with four Death Eaters, and, as I later deduced, Potter, immobilized and invisible. The Headmaster… spoke to me, I suppose you could say, using Occlumency. He begged me not to ruin everything now, not when this would put me in the perfect position in the Last Battle. If I had not done what I did, Draco and his family would have been murdered by the Dark Lord, I would have been murdered by the Dark Lord, and the Headmaster would have died from the poison he had ingested."

Snape swooped down so that he was eye-to-eye with Hermione's frozen face, his black cloak billowing dramatically against the stars.

"Miss Granger, you are not a fool. Potter is too blinded by his foolish emotions and childish ways. Mr. Weasley has no more intelligence than a snail. I can help you. I have information from the Dark Lord that none of his other servants are aware of, information crucial to your success. However, if I am to help you, I must have your word…"Snape's eyes were intense now, his voice silky, "You must not tell anyone that you have had any contact from me. Do I have your word?"

If Hermione had been able to move and speak, she would have rolled her eyes at Snape's momentary stupidity. _Honestly!_ He appeared to realize it as well, and sighed as he pulled out his wand. Snape hesitated, however, and looked for a moment as if he would cover her mouth against a possible scream. He must have decided to rely on her intellect, Hermione decided, because he drew his hand back from the inch it had extended, and muttered a counter-spell. Hermione felt control flow back into her limbs with a surge of relief. She stretched stiffly, sore from being kept in an uncomfortable position for so long. Snape raised an eyebrow, his impatience obvious on his face. She met his gaze, her eyes as equally intense, as though trying to read whether he were telling the truth or not. His story, Hermione had to admit, made sense. And she had always trusted Severus Snape, crazy though it was.

"You have my word, Professor." Hermione said, before she realized her mistake. She hastily corrected herself with a "That is, er, sir."

Something had flickered across the older man's harsh face when she had said 'Professor', but as soon as Hermione noticed it, it was gone. She suddenly felt very awkward.

"I believe you, sir."

Snape stood up abruptly, and turned away from her.

"You are the only one. Your Order is ready to rip out my traitorous throat," Snape said bitterly, "They never did trust me… But now that I have your word, I need to know… What exactly is it that you and Potter and Weasley are hoping to accomplish?"

Hermione hesitated, the information on the tip of her tongue. Snape turned around to face her, and she was disconcerted at what she saw. No malice or mocking sneer was present in his features- only a strange tiredness. A tiredness she had never before seen him display. Right then, under the harsh relief of the moonlight, the man looked so… weary…

So… human.

It was unsettling, at the very least. Hermione suddenly felt the urge to tell him what he wanted to know. The man was stressed without her doubting him.

"We have discovered that Lord Voldemort split up his soul into seven parts, using very ancient and dark magic, and seven being the most powerful number known to-"

"-Miss Granger," Snape interrupted sternly, "I am not asking for a recitation of the entire library, only what is necessary for me to know. How has the Dark Lord split his soul?"

"By using Horcruxes, sir, he has left six pieces of his soul on inanimate objects of certain value or importance to him or his heritage. This makes him almost immortal, because as long as there is one piece of his soul kept alive, he can keep returning. Harry and Professor Dumbledore-" she stumbled at the name, "-have already destroyed two between them. The night that… that it happened… they had just come back with a third. Harry found out later that it was not the real Horcrux, but that someone had stolen it and left a fake in its place."

Snape had remained unnaturally quiet during her speech, mulling this information over in his head.

"So these Horcruxes… If they are all destroyed, the Dark Lord will be a mortal once more?" Snape asked, in the most civil tone he could muster.

"Exactly, sir. The seventh piece of his soul resides in his body. Harry and Ron and I are searching for the last four Horcruxes, or three, if the stolen one was destroyed. Harry thought we should start at… Godric's Hollow…"

Hermione stopped, feeling awkward yet again. After all, it had been Snape who had given Voldemort the information that had led to the Potters' deaths; so, in a roundabout way, Snape was the reason they were going to Godric's Hollow. Snape, however, only cleared his throat, and nodded.

"I will attempt to delve into this matter without arousing too much suspicion…" Snape said slowly, "If you could leave your… friends… after they have fallen asleep, the night after the next, I will tell you of anything I have learned."

In that moment, Hermione realized that their status to one another had just changed drastically_. Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ she acknowledged.

Snape turned on his heel, his cloak billowing out behind him, making it clear he was about to leave, but Hermione called out softly, before he left the clearing.

"Thank you, sir… I'm glad I can still trust you."

The man paused for a moment, his back to her, but left without a word, his dark form barely distinguishable against the night sky. Hermione stayed in the clearing for a while before returning to the grove where her two friends slept on, unaware of the conversation that had just taken place.

From now on, through some odd twist of fate, she and the Half-Blood Prince were equals.

* * *

A/N: Sorry, I might have seriously botched the HTML, I've been messing with it a bit. Anyhoo, thanks for reading. Tell me what you think! 


	3. The One With the Pub

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A/N: MAJOR HBP SPOILERS. Read at your own risk.

Wow, thanks so much to all my reviewers! If you hadn't guessed by the last chapter, the chapters from now on are going to be much longer than the first. That was more of an intro. Oh, and I know Harry's acting kind of out of character, and he will in this chapter too, but I hope to change that in future. Again, I appreciate all the lovely reviews!

One random question that has little or nothing to do with the fic… Does anyone know when Hermione's birthday is? I know when Harry's and Ron's are… but I don't remember Hermione's even being mentioned. Just something I wondered. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. The flashback is an excerpt from The Order of The Phoenix.

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To Prove The Impossible

by Chibi Animagus

The three arrived the next morning at Little Portney, a village consisting of a cluster of houses, a general store, and a pub. Unsure of whether the "town" was Muggle or magical, Hermione made certain that they aired on the side of caution. Robes were exchanged for Muggle clothing and placed in the suitcases Hermione had magically shrunk inside each of their pockets. Ron had seen her do this every day, and yet each time she shrunk the luggage and picnic basket, she received an awed look and a "'Mione, you are bloody brilliant!" Hermione had been pleased the first time, but now would reply briskly that if he had paid attention in Charms class a few months ago, he would be able to do it as well.

The Boy Who Lived seemed in a better mood once they had spotted the village; Hermione seemed to think that while Harry kept quiet, the silence was depressing him. To rectify the situation, Hermione had taken to asking Ron questions about Quidditch, which in turn caused Ron to put a hand to her forehead and inquire if she was under the Imperious Curse. Harry did not often join in, but occasionally would begin to argue with his redheaded friend about defensive tactics and the like. Hermione was just thankful that Harry was keeping himself together instead of jumping down the throat of anyone who said 'how are you', as he had in their fifth year.

As soon as Hermione had paid for their groceries in what was indeed a Muggle grocery store, she turned around to Harry and Ron, only to find they had disappeared. With an irritated huff, she marched down the only street in the village and threw open the door to the pub. Sure enough, they were seated at the bar, Ron chatting amiably with a very fat, very dirty man wearing suspenders and a shirt that didn't even cover his bulge. Harry, spotting Hermione in the doorway, had the grace to look sheepish, but Ron's mouth kept flapping, completely unaware of her presence.

"So we're on our way, as I said, to Godric's Hollow, me and my two friends. You've met Harry Pot--"

Hermione seized Ron's arm in a pincer-like grip and dragged him out the door, causing most of the inhabitants of the pub to stare, or to point and shout things like "some jealous woman you got there, son!" Harry got up and followed them, shrugging in response to the drunken questions they aimed at him.

Once they were outside, away from the pub, Hermione let Ron's arm go. The look on her face was positively livid, one to rival Snape himself. Before the tirade began, Ron tried to soothe her with a "'Mione, we haven't had a bit of fun in ages, we just stopped for a minute to--"

"--To completely give us away?" Hermione hissed in the loudest and most frightening whisper the two boys had ever heard, "Honestly, did you ever stop to think, Ron, that perhaps there was someone in that pub who _knew who Harry was?"_

"This is a Muggle town, and there was hardly anyone in there--"

"Exactly! Every single person in that retched place heard you babbling on about Godric's Hollow and who knows what else! And Harry," Hermione rounded on him, her hands on her hips, "I'm surprised at you! I would have thought you would recognize a _stupid idea_ when you saw one! After everything that's happened to you --"

Ron's ears had turned a dangerous shade of red now, and he was spluttering at Hermione, attempting-- rather unsuccessfully-- to cut into her lecture. Harry, who had remained so quiet and mellow during their journey, was suddenly incensed, his signature green eyes flashing angrily.

"Oh, so _Harry_ would recognize a stupid idea and not _me,_ is that right?" Ron said, almost yelling.

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry yelled, ignoring Ron, "Well at least _I_ knew that Snape was a filthy, evil, traitorous _git_ all along! 'Oh, _honestly_, Harry'," he said nastily in a high-pitched, mocking voice, "'Professor Snape is really a _nice_ man, Dumbledore _trusts_ him!' Didn't do him much good, did it?"

Harry was breathing hard, now, oblivious to the tears welling up in Hermione's eyes, and the slightly abashed look on Ron's face, all anger forgotten in Harry's outburst.

"Harry, mate, we're not talking about Snape, here, this has nothing to do with--"

"DIDN'T DO MY PARENTS MUCH GOOD, EITHER! DID IT? DON'T TALK TO ME ABOUT STUPID IDEAS, HERMIONE, BECAUSE I KNOW ALL ABOUT THEM! YOU THINK YOU'RE SO SMART, BUT THERE ARE SOME THINGS YOU JUST DON'T-- BLOODY-- UNDERSTAND!"

"Harry James Potter," Hermione said, her voice deadly quiet, steady despite the tears coursing down her face, "If you don't start acting your age… I swear I'll slap you."

For a moment, everything was completely still.

Harry was the first to break the silence. "Hermione… Hermione, I'm sorry…" he said, laying a hand on her quivering shoulder. Ron seemed to spring into action, then, and pulled Hermione into an embrace, shooting his best mate a look that said 'great job, Potter'.

"Hermione, that was horrible of me," Harry continued, sounding ashamed with himself, "You didn't deserve it. You were right about the pub, I should have known it was a stupid idea--" (here Ron made an indignant noise) "--and I'm sorry for bringing up Snape right now, I know he had nothing to do with what you were angry about. That was… that was…"

"Tactless?" Ron offered.

"Yes, thank you Ron," Harry said, sounding only slightly sarcastic. When Hermione's sniffles had slowed, Ron drew away, and let Hermione wipe her face with her sleeve.

"Don't worry about it, Harry," Hermione said, "I'm just tired, and so are you. And I know you haven't had time to really… think about… things…"

While the boys weren't exactly sure what 'things' she was referring to, Harry safely decided to assume she meant that he hadn't had time to let Dumbledore's death sink in. Ron decided to assume she meant lunch.

"I'm sorry too, 'Mione, I wasn't thinking…" Ron said, his ears red again. Hermione smiled, and sniffled at him, beaming through her sparkling eyes. "It's fine, Ron, just… we need to be careful. As Harry so… erm… loudly… pointed out, we just can't trust most people."

After the boys had patted her on the back a bit, and Hermione had assured them that she was fine, the Dream Team made their happy way out of the village of Little Portney, and down the road that would lead them closer to their destination.

* * *

After many years of NEWT classes and first year exams, Severus Snape could proudly say that he was quite familiar with hysterics, thank you very much. The mere sight of him was usually enough to make Longbottom wet himself. Add a few insults, a drop of sarcasm, and a fifteen-inch essay on bezoars, and he had students fainting, sobbing, and purposely dumping scalding-hot cauldrons over their own heads in hopes that it would end their misery. Yes, Severus Snape had thought he had seen it all.

Until, of course, today.

Every other fit of hysterics he had witnessed had been due to a compilation of stress, lack of sleep, and hatred of him, the greasy git. Never before had someone-- anyone-- cried because…

… No, he decided, it couldn't be. The chit was only tired, as she had told her… _friends_… It was preposterous even to suggest that the girl had been worked up because Potter had insulted… him, of all people. True, Granger had certainly believed that he was innocent, but Snape had seen her tear up before when he had insulted her in class. Potter _had_ been mocking her, and she _hadn't_ been sleeping well. That was why she had cried, and that was all there was to it.

Or was it?

In the back of his mind, Snape knew that he was making a big deal out of nothing. Yet… he hadn't known that Granger used to defend him to Potter and Weasley. Even if it was only because the late Headmaster trusted him, Snape had never heard anyone bother to stand up for him….

Or, rather, no had bothered to stand up for him once he had insulted them properly…

__

"…Leave him alone. What's he done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists_, if you know what I mean…"_

"You think you're funny, but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter. Leave him alone_…"_

"You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus…"

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her…"

"I'd wash your pants if I were you, Snivellus…"

Snape snapped out of his happy memories as the Dream Team stopped just ahead of him. In the golden light filtering through the canopy above them, he could see the three of them laughing and smiling, basking in the glow of each other's company. Instead of his usual deprecating thoughts on the matter, Snape was startled to find that today he only felt strangely alien, as though he didn't belong in such a happy scene….

Snape snarled at himself, disgusted with his sudden sentimental thoughts. He had a job to do, and he was doing it. And since when had he ceased to come up with witty and insulting names for the Granger girl in his head? There was nothing else for it but to make up for lost time.

Chipmunk! Insufferable Know-It-All! Mudblood!

Snape froze, an icy feeling blooming in the pit of his stomach.

__

"I don't need help from filthy little Mudbloods like her!"

Some yards away, Hermione was laughing at some joke Weasel Face had made, her face bathed in sunlight, her honey-brown eyes sparkling with life, and intelligence, and joy. Something twisted inside of him, then. Something that made him feel immediately guilty for even thinking the word 'Mudblood'.

Never mind the fact that Snape hadn't used that word, even in the confines of his mind, in many years. And the fact that Lily Evans had never bothered to defend him ever again. The fact of the matter was that the Granger girl did not deserve to be thought of in that way, and would not be anymore, at least in _his_ mind.

Snape smirked, as the irony of his life once again made itself obvious. _'Odd',_ he thought to himself with a grimace, _'how I supposedly belong to both parties in this bloody war… and yet the Granger girl is the only one even remotely on my side.'_

In the waning light, Snape saw Potter and Weasley making themselves comfortable on the ground, Potter disappearing under his Invisibility Cloak. The insufferable know-it-all, however, sat upright under a tree, explaining something to Weasley, probably why she was not preparing to go to sleep. After several minutes had passed, and the redhead's breathing had slowed, the Granger girl did something strange.

She turned around, squinting, as if looking for something or someone in his general vicinity. Snape looked around, confused, for a moment, before he realized…

… She was looking for him.

Taken aback by this, Snape had no idea how to respond. He knew the chit couldn't see him under his Invisibility Cloak, but Severus Snape was not a friendly, agreeable man. If the idiot girl thought he would reveal himself so he could wave at her and reassure her that he was there, she was wrong.

After a moment, she gave up, and laid down under the tree, resting her head on her elbow. _As if she needed a pillow with all that hair._ Snape smirked, relieved that his ability to insult the girl had not completely left him. Then, remembering the work he had to do elsewhere, he prepared to Apparate. He readied his wand, straightened his Cloak to ensure it covered him completely, and…

… Sat down. To stay a moment more, for the sake of the Golden Trio and The Cause, couldn't hurt.

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A/N: How'd you like it? Review please, I would just love it.

Tell me if you think anyone is out of character, especially the greasy git himself. I think I may be making the poor guy too sentimental and "nice" too quickly, but hey. He just killed the one person who trusted him (or so he thought) a few months ago. He's been under a lotta stress and pain.

And to Lerr: "hate you" is an understatement. You better review. ;D


	4. The One Where He Knows Her Name

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A/N: HBP SPOILERS.

Thanks to all my reviewers, and to the people that knew when Hermione's birthday was. I didn't know she was older than Ron. How scandalous! (Lol, of course I would say that!)

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

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To Prove The Impossible

by Chibi Animagus

It had been a long day. Hermione sat in the dark with her legs crossed, waiting patiently for signs that her friends had fallen asleep. She surveyed the darkened sky with slight trepidation. It hadn't rained on them thus far, but the sky had begun to look forbidding in the afternoon. Tonight, the stars were masked by thick clouds, and the forest was so dark that Hermione was beginning to feel as though the gloom was pressing in on her from all sides. A soft snore came from the lump that was Ron.

"Lumos," she muttered, the light barely permeating the strange, thick shadows. Hermione couldn't see Harry, but she knew that he had been tired, and she hadn't heard a sound from him since they had settled down for the night. Getting up quietly so as not to wake her sleeping friends, Hermione started out tentatively in the direction that Professor Snape must be. As she found herself surrounded in unfamiliar shadow, however, Hermione became nervous. She turned around, but could not see Ron in the gloom. Hermione became suddenly aware of the mist that was rolling about everywhere. Biting her lip, she kept walking, although she was beginning to feel as though she were in some kind of nightmare.

"Professor?" Her voice conveyed much more fear than she had intended, but no answer came from the shadows.

Then she felt it. An icy wind swept through the forest, tearing at her lungs, chilling her to the marrow. Hermione shivered, instantly putting the mist and the cold together, and felt her anger boil inside of her as she realized that Snape had betrayed them, a momentary warmth which was soon sucked dry. She cast her thoughts around frantically for a happy thought, any happy thought. Hermione's wand hand was shaking, although she suspected the cold had something to do with it.

__

'We're going to destroy Voldemort, we're going to destroy Voldemort, we're going to destroy Voldemort…'

"Expecto--"

A rattling breath behind her. Hermione screamed, and whirled around. Another, to the left. And again on the right. Everywhere she looked, the foul creatures were closing in-- slowly, as if toying with her before sucking the very life from her.

__

She was writhing, choking, being eaten alive… She gasped as she caught sight of her fur-covered face in the cracked mirror…

Even as she tried the spell again, Hermione knew with a sinking heart that she was horribly outnumbered. Tears of rage and dread slid down her cheek and froze halfway down, spots of ice dotting her face.

__

She and Luna rushed into Professor Snape's office… Professor Flitwick lay unconscious on the floor…

"Expecto Patronum!"

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She was in the Department of Mysteries… The room shifted, spun…

A silvery otter leapt from her wand, but the anger and hurt she was directing at Snape was overpowering. The Patronus collided with a dementor, wavered for a moment, and disappeared.

__

"EXPELLIARMUS!"… Professor Snape was blasted through the air, and a nasty crack was heard as his head connected with the wall. A trickle of blood oozed down his temple.

Someone was shouting…

_Her two front teeth were growing rapidly, already past her chin… The sallow-faced man eyed her coldly and said with a sneer, "I see no difference."_

Hermione gasped and shuddered as they closed in on her, falling in a crumpled heap on the icy ground. She covered her face with her arms, willing herself to hold on one moment longer… Her shoulders shook as her mind screamed, berating her for trusting someone so blindly… She was nothing but a foolish child. Hermione realized that she was still holding her wand, and waved it weakly at her attackers.

"Expecto… Expect…"

Hermione heard another yell, but it was muffled as though she were underwater. Her eyes drew closed of their own accord. She felt herself slipping, slipping…

Just before Hermione fell into blackness, she thought, confusedly, that a light was shining through her closed eyelids.

* * *

"Miss Granger… Miss Granger… Hermione!"

The bushy-haired girl stirred at last. She opened her eyes groggily, and attempted to sit up, although she hardly succeeded in raising her head off the ground.

"Pr-Professor?" The girl croaked, and through the gloom he could see her blinking confusedly, as if she was unsure where she was.

"…How many times must I tell you, Miss Granger," Snape said, his voice portraying much more weariness and much less sting than he had intended, "I am not a professor anymore."

"Oh… er… of course not…" The girl said, still perplexed, "Wait…" She frowned a moment, her eyes unfocused, until they grew wide with dawning realization. Apparently, her memories had returned to her, and she had found something quite amiss.

"You… you…" The girl stammered angrily, struggling to bring herself to a sitting position and failing once again. She looked down at herself, her wrath momentarily giving way to irritation at whatever was keeping her from sitting up. Hermione froze, seemingly forgetting what she had been about to say. She stared a moment at the black cloak wrapped around her, and the angry frown lines that had marked her face softened.

"How articulate, Miss Granger," Snape said, resuming his usual drawling tone, "Unfortunate that your meaning was lost in the midst of your impressive vocabulary."

When Hermione brought her gaze back up to him, he was startled at the raw, haunted expression he saw in those eyes that were usually so full of life. Snape froze, mouth slightly agape, unable to find it within himself to lash out and insult the hurt and pain that she was allowing him to see. Such emotions he had always kept fiercely to himself. He understood numbly that this was very personal.

"Sir…" Hermione said in an anguished whisper, "Please… why are you doing this?"

Snape swallowed; his mouth had gone dry. "I am confused as to what you are referring to."

"Why…" She began, shaking her head as though in disbelief, "I… The dementors…" Hermione seemed to draw herself up, then, "You betrayed us, don't deny it. I was childish enough to believe the ridiculous story that you fed me earlier, but this time I'll have none of it."

Hermione extracted herself from his cloak, and immediately began shivering violently, but showed no sign of changing her mind. She managed to stand up, although the violent shaking of her knees suggested that she would not remain so for long.

"Miss Granger, don't be absurd, in your present condition you--"

Snape had no need to continue his warning, as Hermione's knees buckled, and she collapsed in a shivering heap beside him. He gave a long-suffering sigh, and rubbed his temples against an oncoming Gryffindor headache before covering the chit with his cloak again. She did not thank him, but drew it around herself protectively, eyeing him with considerable suspicion.

Finally, she spoke, her voice low and quavering, "What do you want from me?"

Snape's expression darkened. "Miss Granger, I thought I had made that obvious. I want to help you, so you in turn may help Mr. Potter defeat the Dark Lord. What is this idiocy about my betraying you?" Hermione was silent. "Certainly you do not believe that I sent those dementors? Miss Granger, they are everywhere. They have been breeding in droves, you will more than likely come across many on your way to Godric's Hollow--" he said this name delicately, "--and I had thought that I had earned your trust." More silence. "Apparently I was mistaken."

Hermione buried her face in her hands, and something in Snape's chest gave an unbidden lurch as he wondered if the girl was crying. Her shoulders did not shake, however, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were dry. She said in a small voice, "I've wanted to trust you, sir. But I can't."

Snape's mouth was set in a grim line. He had hoped it would not come to this, but he needed the insufferable girl's trust for more reasons than he cared to admit now.

"I should have known better, Miss Granger, than to believe you could trust me without solid proof," he said with a cruel, biting edge, "Very well. I shall return to you shortly. Remain where you are." And with that last order, he left the chit staring wide-eyed into space as he disappeared with a 'pop'.

Hermione drew his cloak more tightly around her. She was quite sure now that Severus Snape, the Half-Blood Prince, had in fact, for the first time in all the six years she had known him, called her "Hermione".

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A/N: I'll probably get the next chappie up soon. This was a short one.


	5. The One With Painful Memories

**A/N: I'm back...!**

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long. Half of this chapter had been sitting in my folder for eons... Real life and massive writer's block, you know the drill. You may pelt me with rotten avocados if you wish (ever eaten one by accident? I have. Bleck; tastes like garbage.) Anyways, apologies.**

**Oh, and many, _many_ thanks to all who have reviewed! I really appreciate it. Constructive criticism is also much appreciated; feel free to tell me if they're getting OOC. I dunno, Snape's a bit tender in this one.**

**And now, on with the show. At last.**

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**To Prove the Impossible:**

**The One With the Painful Memories**

**by Chibi Animagus**

Snape returned with a large stone bowl that could only be a Pensive, and a bottle full of swirling, milky liquid. His eyes narrowed at the bushy-haired girl as he set it down in the grass in front of her. His jaw was clenched, she noticed.

"Your Pensive, sir?"

Snape's lip curled.

"No doubt you've read all about them."

He uncorked the flask of liquid and emptied it into the Pensive, the strands of memory floating eerily, reminding Hermione of the fog. She shivered, twisting her fingers around the heavy black material of Snape's cloak.

It smelled good, she realized, and relaxed a bit.

"As a matter of fact, sir, I---"

"Spare me, Miss Granger," Snape said. "I don't have all night."

Hermione sniffed indignantly. She had been _about_ to say that she had not read a thing about Pensives besides the fact that they can be used to store and view memories. 'How very rude!' she thought, 'How very Snape!'

Hermione gave a start as something grasped her hand. It was Snape. She lowered her head, hoping fervently that he could not see her blushing in the dark. His pale fingers felt cool against her wrist….

Hermione tried to clear her throat, but only succeeded in making a small strangled noise. The only sign Snape gave of hearing her was a slight arching of his eyebrow. He guided her hand over to the bowl, but hesitated, letting her fingertips hover over the surface. Hermione looked up slowly, her eyebrows traveling further and further up her forehead.

Snape closed his eyes for a moment, not meeting her gaze.

"Some of these memories," he began slowly, "Are not… pleasant. I will show you as many as necessary, but do know that the more you need to see, the more unpleasant they will become. I have a flask of Dreamless Sleep Potion you may use for tonight, but I am afraid that that is the last of my personal supply."

Hermione swallowed, and nodded. Snape nodded as well, as though reassuring himself of something, and let her fingers slip down into the shimmering, gas-like substance. Immediately, Hermione felt the world shift and lurch. She felt like she was falling through nothingness….

When the world had come to a stop--- or she had, she couldn't be sure--- Hermione found herself in a small, dimly-lit sitting room that was positively coated with books. Black and brown leather-bound volumes lined the shelves and lay in dusty, disorderly piles on the threadbare rug, most of them cracked and worn. Hermione knew what a serious situation this was, so she clasped both hands safely behind her back to avoid them possibly taking on lives of their own and snatching up all the books in sight.

"Miss Granger," a voice purred in her ear, "I hope I need not remind you why we are here."

Hermione's hand flew to her throat, and she whirled around. She had not expected him to follow her. It was only then that she realized she had been staring at the bookshelves with her mouth hanging open; she promptly snapped it shut. Snape's eyes glittered.

"N-no, sir, certainly not," she said. "Where are we?"

Just then, a knock sounded from the door. Snape folded his arms and looked pointedly at the scene behind her; another Snape had appeared to answer the door.

"This is your… home?"

It didn't come out as respectfully as she had intended. In fact, it had sounded very much as though she were speaking to a four-year-old who had just told her that he lived in a cardboard box. Snape, it appeared, had noticed. His face darkened, and his eyes flashed menacingly.

"I live here, if that is what you mean," he spat out. "Whatever is the matter, Ms. Granger? Expected something grander? A castle, perhaps, for the feared fairy-tale troll?"

"No, no sir, that's not what I meant at all," she said miserably, "I was only---"

"Don't trouble yourself," he snapped.

At that moment, Hermione realized the memory had commenced without her, and tore herself away from Snape's gaze with a sigh.

Two black-clad figures were throwing back their hoods and making themselves comfortable on Snape's sofa. _Snape's sofa_, Hermione giggled inside her head, _how pleasantly domestic_. Any silly thoughts of Snape purchasing said sofa and choosing paint schemes were wiped from her mind as she recognized both of the visitors. The pale, pointed face and elegant features were unmistakeable; Narcissa Malfoy was the first, holding a glass of wine. The other... The other she recognized with a shudder, and a fierce burst of rage. Sneering at her from the front page of the Daily Prophet at breakfast, taunting Harry in that mocking baby voice, screeching with cold, cruel laughter as the man that was Harry Potter's hope fell slowly backwards to his death...

Bellatrix Lestrange. And she was making herself at home in Severus Snape's living room. Hermione wanted to smack her... desperately wanted to lose her cool and tear that--- that _thing_ apart. Snape knew simple cleaning spells--- the couch would be fine.

Except this was only a memory, she chided herself. She knew Snape had to deal with the other Death Eaters, and was exceptionally good at acting, but she had to admit--- her palms were sweating profusely, and Lestrange couldn't even see her. How did Snape do it? All right, he _was_ snapping at her, hardly attempting to conceal his distaste, but Hermione still had to hand it to him. Lestrange made her skin crawl.

Now--- enough idle thinking. Hermione snapped to Note-Taking Mode. High-Priority Note-Taking Mode, actually, which she used... all the time. She listened with rapt attention to Snape, Narcissa, and Lestrange, measured expressions, weighed the subtle inflections and changes in tone.

It appeared that Narcissa was in a bit of a pickle; Voldemort had ordered Draco to some highly important, loftily sought-after, but difficult and dangerous task. The task, Hermione assumed, must be to murder the late Headmaster. Narcissa was an intelligent woman--- she knew Draco would fail, and she knew Voldemort was only too aware of this. Although the Malfoy woman's over-dramatized, sweeping gestures and pleading reminded Hermione of a silly Muggle soap opera, something bigger was happening here. This was a mother, tearfully begging for the life of her son--- no matter how much of a rat-faced git that son was. A strange feeling crept up on her--- like she understood something very powerful about the Malfoy's, and it wasn't entirely bad.

If Draco Malfoy's mother died for him, as Lily Potter had died for her son, he would be utterly and completely alone, with no one to defend him.

No, she understood, then, that Narcissa couldn't do that. The best chance she had was to influence others--- manipulate them--- and gain some sort of footing for Draco. And apparently she was influencing Snape.

Memory-Snape was defending himself now, countering all of Lestrange's attacks on his loyalty with smooth, practiced excuses. For that's what they were, she knew. No--- thought, not knew! She was being open-minded, of course--- giving the man a chance.

_Ugh. Admit it. You trust him already. You've always prided yourself on your intuition, and you just can't believe it would fail you now. Why would it? The man can act, but some things... well, there are some things you simply can't hide. He said he'd show me as many memories as it took..._

Even so, Hermione knew that logically, her curiosity would not rest until every last question had been answered.

And it was.

She saw the Unbreakable Vow being formed, a sick feeling overtaking her. She saw Snape arguing near Hagrid's hut with Dumbledore--- shouting that he couldn't kill him, that he couldn't be asked to kill a man he looked up to as a father--- while all the while those eyes behind half-moon spectacles twinkled sadly. She saw Snape's face twisting in rage, screaming at Harry, who was crumpled on the ground--- screaming not to call him "coward," as though that cruel irony seared his soul more than anything else. She saw personal moments. Snape, at his kitchen table with his head in his hands, trembling violently. Snape, raging and cursing and kicking over his nightstand, tears coursing down his face. Snape, wild-eyed and shuddering, wrenching his hands through his hair. Snape, huddled and alone on the floor. Snape, broken and afraid.

"Enough!" she yelled.

And they were back in the clearing.

"Miss Granger," a voice said softly.

"I trust you, damn it! I trust you already!"

"Miss Granger." More insistently this time.

"I don't need to see any more bloody memories, just don't---"

She stopped short as a hand was laid on her shoulder. It was only then that she realized that Snape's dark eyes were swimming in front of her. She was crying. She swallowed, and scrubbed the tears furiously away.

"I'm sorry," she stammered, feeling utterly foolish.

"No," Snape silenced her, his voice still oddly gentle, "It is I who should be apologizing. I... I think it is best if you take this, and go straight to sleep." Then, quietly, "You're pushing yourself too hard."

A small, smooth object was pressed into her hand. Dreamless Sleep Potion, she assumed.

"But sir, we were going to discuss---"

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped, back to his usual demeanor, "You're of no use to me--- or Potter--- dead."

Normally she would have protested more, but her mind was reeling and she felt a bit ill. Slowly, she nodded, and got to her feet. Yet something, she felt, still needed to be done.

"Er... sir?" Hermione said tentatively, taking a step towards him in the blackness.

"Yes?"

She reached out a hand, her arm trembling a bit, and laid it cautiously on Snape's thin shoulder.

"I... I'm sorry I doubted you."

He stiffened, and backed away. She dropped her arm.

Hermoine turned, head bowed, and was about to make her way back to Harry and Ron, when he spoke.

"Tomorrow night... I will come for you. Hopefully we can begin to solve this mystery. Agreed?"

It sounded odd--- Snape asking politely for her approval. And although she was sure she hadn't much choice in the matter, still--- it was a step.

"Agreed."


End file.
